


I Watched my World Fall Apart (the day my love left me)

by BatsAreFluffy



Series: Like tears in the rain [24]
Category: Justice League - All Media Types, Justice Lords - Fandom
Genre: Capture, Day 24: sensory deprivation, Multi, Other, Rape, Torture, Whumptober 2020, breaking a human, dead Robins: do not eat, retraining for slavery, what does that tag even mean?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatsAreFluffy/pseuds/BatsAreFluffy
Summary: There was nothing, and then there was Everything.Noise and feeling rushed over him. The harsh screaming, the clanking of chains, the laboured breathing. His skin was cool, clammy, covered in sweat and other things that dripped down his legs. His shoulders were screaming at him, arms yanked above his head. He was hanging, he wasn’t touching a floor, he wasn’t wearing anything but chains and rope and a collar and a plug gag nearly choking him, and oh god oh god oh god...“Welcome back, Bruce.”
Series: Like tears in the rain [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950151
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	I Watched my World Fall Apart (the day my love left me)

He was shaking, barely.

Bruce couldn’t feel if he was cold or warm. Whether he was naked, dressed in a suit, or in the Batsuit. Couldn’t feel a breeze, or the heat of the sun, or the damp of rain and caves.

He wanted to cry out, terribly.

He couldn’t hear anything around him. Sound was absent, from his breathes, to talking, to anyone else. There could be a crowd of thousands watching, or no one in the place he was in.

He wanted to move, to hide, frantically.

He couldn’t feel his muscles. Couldn’t feel his feet, his hands, his face. He had no idea if he was standing, sitting, falling or lying prone on the ground.

He was in a vacuum of space and time. He was nowhere, and he was no one.

It terrified him, beyond all words he couldn’t speak.

There was nothing, and then there was Everything.

Noise and feeling rushed over him. The harsh screaming, the clanking of chains, the laboured breathing. His skin was cool, clammy, covered in sweat and other things that dripped down his legs. His shoulders were screaming at him, arms yanked above his head. He was hanging, he wasn’t touching a floor, he wasn’t wearing anything but chains and rope and a collar and a plug gag nearly choking him, and oh god oh god oh god...

“Welcome back, Bruce.”

The room was still dark – no, Bruce realized, the blindfold was still on, he could feel the cool leather, the padded eye patches. He was captured in darkness, and remained therein, afforded no light. He moaned around the gag, choking on his spit as it oozed down his airway.

“I’ve brought you a present, Bruce.”

He thrashed at the voice, rattling the chains that held his ankles. Sound – he could hear his own breathing again. He could hear his heartbeat, thudding in his temples. He could hear a whistle, high and coming -!

Pain exploded across his stomach, and he jackknifed on his chains. He cried, yelled, tried everything to move away from the mysterious ‘gift.’ Another whistle, and it exploded again, his abs burning with pain. There were multiple points of contact, multiple small bites that overrode all his senses. He sobbed as another, another, another strike flayed him open.

“Did you feel that, Bruce?”

Bruce nodded his head, jerky. He hung now, untouched, in his chains, feeling the collar dig into his neck. Small pain was a mercy, a blessing, now. Small pain meant he was alive, and not Nowhere.

He couldn’t go back to Nowhere anymore.

He just couldn’t.

“I don’t think you did, really.”

He sobbed, nodding faster. He did, he had, please, no more—

“I think I’ll adjust your collar up a bit.”

_Oh god god god...._

Everything became More. Louder, harsher, more intense. And when the gift whistled through the air again, he couldn’t move, he braced –

\--crack!—

Bruce screamed. Screamed so hard his captor could hear it clearly.

\--crack!—

His body thrashed in every way possible. His right shoulder tried to seize, but the pain overwhelmed that small self preservation habit. With a gut wrenching muffled explosion, the entire shoulder ripped out of the socket.

\--crack!—

He was bleeding, he was covered in his own filth. He had nothing to vomit, or he would have tried. His whole body shook with his sobs, his muffled begging, his cries. But there was nothing he could do.

\--crack!—

Nowhere he could go.

\--crack!—

No one to save him.

\--crack—

No one was coming. Because they were all here.

\--crack!—

Strong hands gripped his body, his arms, his hips, spread his legs apart. Hands pulled his head back, lifted his body up just enough for his arms to not dislocate any farther. Tilted his hips upwards, held his legs higher, made everything open.

“Do you agree that you earned this, Bruce?”

\--crack!—

Right across his ass. He bellowed, thrashed, bucked, tried everything that he knew. The burning of the ropes around him gave him no solace. Forced the truth they were giving him deep into his mind and soul. The hands held the ropes, the chains, the collar, fisted his hair.

Hard footsteps came closer, rough hands pulled at his hair, the blindfold dropping to the floor for the moment. Lord Superman stood in front of him, uniform covered in small droplets of blood. He held a flagrum in one hand, the metal teeth of barbed wire covered in Bruce’s blood.

“You earned this, Bruce. You betrayed everything we stand for. This is your punishment. Do you agree to it?”

What difference did it make? Bruce had counted, they were two short. Memory surfaced – ten was the count. Each time, Ten. No matter what. Ten.

“Nod or shake, Bruce.”

Every time he said no, ten more hits. Ten more shocks. Ten more water-boarding. Ten more broken bones. Ten ten ten. It didn’t matter.

Sobbing, eyes streaming with tears, he stared at his former best friend turned monster. He stared at Diana, who stood behind him, eyes cold. He knew the rest of the Lords were holding him open.

\--crack!—

He exploded in pain, movement, agony, panic. The deep cuts on his cock and balls burned, setting his nerves on fire again. Every movement was restrained, held open, presented for his torture at the hands of beings he once trusted with his life, and the life of his Robins. That had been the only time it hadn’t been ten.

Eight bodies.

What difference did it make?

\--crack!—

His whole body bellowed, jerking, seizing under the pain, the torture, the starvation, the drugs, the wholesale slaughter of his being. He couldn’t hold on any more.

“Yes,” he nodded. He tried to say it, garbled around the plug in his mouth.

Lord Superman stepped forward. “Remove the gag, Lantern.”

Bruce kept his eyes on the Lord in front of him, standing between his upraised legs. “Yes,” he whimpered, broken. “I agree to it. I – I earned this – my Lord...I – I—“

The Lord nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Bruce, for coming to that correct conclusion. You have earned your punishment. You betrayed us, and you have – what is the word? – repented for your sins to us.”

Bruce sobbed, head held still by two hands fisted in his longer hair. He’d been here so long. But he didn’t look away.

“We forgive you for your betrayal, Bruce.” Lord Superman tilted his head. “You are forgiven.”

Bruce cried harder, barely breathing without choking.

“We will begin your re-education now, in your new role for the Justice Lords.” Lord Superman set down the flagrum, and began caressing the bleeding inner thighs of his prisoner. “You will be our pet, our plaything, our whipping boy, as it were. And, when the days are long and tedious, our fleshlight.”

Bruce’s mind stuttered to a halt. For a moment, he was back in the Nowhere. Back in the place his collar sent him, blocking out all neural feedback.

“As there is only eight of us currently, Diana and I have agreed to take on double duty for your first lesson – complete submission of your body. You may make any sound you need to during this first grade of training.” He petted the inside of Bruce’s thigh again, softly. “Humans do need a gentler approach to learning new tricks.”

With no other warning, Bruce felt the hot member push at his entrance, and then ram its way deep inside in one thrust.

\--one—

**Author's Note:**

> *sighs* this is just getting darker every time I sit down to write something.


End file.
